


The Art Contest

by KagSesshlove



Series: Grade School [12]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU
Genre: Gen, That time when Damian was super precious, batbros, batfam, but it was a close thing, cute brother stuff, dick didn't cry, he's the best at art, no matter what, steph will always mess with dami, the most adorable artsy baby, tim's mouth gets the best of him sometimes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-24
Updated: 2017-04-24
Packaged: 2018-10-23 09:04:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,018
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10716354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KagSesshlove/pseuds/KagSesshlove
Summary: Imagine that Damian goes to a regular school full time. And has to do things that normal grade-schoolers have to do. Like enter an art competition.





	The Art Contest

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don’t own anything. Not even Chopped. Or Dancing with the Stars.
> 
> Warnings: Contains the most precious individual in the world.

Damian cocked an eyebrow when Grayson poked his head into the room. There was a strange expression on his oldest brother’s face – the one he tended to make when he was trying – and failing – to suppress his excitement.

Damian sighed, bracing himself. “Yes, Grayson?”

Grayson sidled into the room affecting a poor facsimile of nonchalance. “Hey, Dami. How’s it going?”

( _How is he so good at his job when he can’t even act casual at home?)_

Damian wasn’t sure if even his _father_ knew the answer to that question.

“Fine,” Damian replied curtly. “Did you need something?”

Grayson gave up on trying to hide his smile with a flourish, grinning and spreading his arms out wide. “Guess what I just found out on the school’s twitter page?”

Damian scowled. “How many social media accounts does the school even have?”

“Like, 5. But that’s not the point. The point is…” he paused, presumably to build drama. All Damian felt was annoyance and vague dread. “There’s an art contest!”

Damian turned around in his chair swiftly, forcing a shrug. “Oh. That.”

“That?” Grayson whined, sounding heartbroken at Damian’s lack of enthusiasm.

Damian didn’t care.

He cared even less about the contest.

Well…

That wasn’t completely true.

He would never admit it to anyone – least of all Grayson – but he was almost – _almost –_ excited for the contest. Not that he planned on entering, but he had an appreciation for the arts, and though he doubted any of his classmates were overly talented, it sounded like an event that Damian would enjoy.

It was a strange state to be in: anticipating something that the _school_ was offering.

Which was why he would never admit it.

( _Grayson would never let me hear the end of it.)_

“Yes, that.”

“But, but, Dami! You’re an artist! You’re great at drawing! You could totally win and it would be fun and then we could all go and we could celebrate like a family and enjoy this crucial moment in your childhood!”

Damian shot his brother a look. He couldn’t be serious.

Except he was.

Of course.

Grayson was staring at him with that painfully pitiful expression.

( _Why does this mean so much to him?)_

“It’s hardly crucial,” Damian offered dismissively.

“But it is! Please, Damian? Don’t you want to show off your work?”

“I’m not Drake; I don’t feel the need to prove myself better than my peers by crushing them in an ultimately meaningless competition.”

Grayson gaped slightly before shrugging. “Tim’s actually gotten better about that! Now, he just shows them up by being overly competent in normal life.”

“A much better aspiration,” Damian replied sarcastically.

“Okay, forget about Tim-“

“Gladly.”

“Focus on the contest. You really like art, right? I mean, you’re drawing right now!”

Damian suppressed a flinch and resisted the urge to shut his sketchbook. That would just look guilty. And there was nothing to be guilty about.

“So?”

That sounded too defensive. And now Grayson was eyeing him like he had the upper hand.

Damian cursed under his breath and avoided eye contact. It was the coward’s way out, but he didn’t have much of a choice at this point. His pride was going to end up destroyed one way or another.

“Soooo, maybe entering the contest… wouldn’t be so bad?”

Damian raised his chin and set his jaw. “Of course, it would be.”

He could practically feel the smugness flowing off of Grayson; he obviously didn’t believe him.

“You wanna’ enter the contest, Dami?”

He was grinning like he already knew the answer.

But he didn’t!

Damian didn’t want to _enter_ the contest at all. He simply appreciated the fact that one was being held at all.

“No,” Damian answered, crossing his arms and lowering his eyebrows.

Grayson’s smile only got bigger as his eyes swept past Damian and over the desk. “I was going to offer to print out the registration form, but it looks like you already have one.”

Damian spun around in his chair and picked up his sketchbook, slamming it down on top of the paper. “Andrews was handing them out to everyone!”

Grayson’s grin softened into a small smile and he crouched down in front of Damian. Damian avoided his gaze, but Grayson just ruffled his hair in response.

“You know,” Grayson said gently, “there’s nothing wrong with wanting to enter.”

“I don’t,” Damian refuted.

Inwardly, he acknowledged the fact that he sounded petulant. And that perhaps – _perhaps_ – he _might_ want to enter.

But the whole thing was completely stupid.

So, he had no intentions of telling Grayson his true thoughts on the matter.

Not that that seemed to stop the older man from discerning said thoughts.

Grayson sighed. “Damian, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. It’s okay if you want to do this. Do you?”

Damian pursed his lips. “It doesn’t matter. I refuse to participate.”

“No one is going to make fun of you for wanting to do this.”

Damian shot him an incredulous glare. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m completely serious,” Grayson affirmed, a firm expression on his face. “If this is something you want to do, the _whole_ family will support you.”

Damian scowled, turning back around with a scoff. “It’s childish.”

“You’re a child,” he pointed out wryly.

Damian sent another glare his way. “I’m a warrior!”

“You are. But, you’re also a kid. So, it’s okay to want to do kid stuff sometimes. It’s not like entering the contest will keep you from going on patrol. Just… think about it, Dami? If this is something you want to do, you should do it. Everyone would be really proud of you – pretty sure Bruce would show up at the presentation,” he added, tilting his head with a small, hopeful smile.

Damian didn’t reply.

But he liked the idea.

He was an excellent fighter – an excellent Robin. But, he wouldn’t be opposed to making his father – his family – proud with his other skills. Because he was good at more than fighting, and it might be nice to show them.

Damian sniffed and forced a shrug. “I’ll think about it, Grayson.”

Grayson grinned a little. “I’ll leave you to it, then.”

Damian hummed and turned to his desk as Grayson walked out of his room. He slid his sketchbook off the registration forms and frowned slightly, tapping the desktop.

( _Might as well.)_

He grabbed a pen.

* * *

 

Jason raised his eyebrow when Dick skipped into the kitchen grinning, Damian following behind him looking exasperated.

“Dick, you got something weird on you face,” Jason said pointing at his smile.

Dick shot him an annoyed look, but Steph high-fived him, and Jason liked Steph better, so Dick’s inability to take a joke really didn’t matter.

“Seriously,” Steph said, “the smile isn’t weird, but you were _skipping_. I feel like something kinda bad, but mostly great is about to happen.”

“Only great,” Dick refuted, his grin returning.

Jason rolled his eyes. If Dick was this excited about it, it was bound to be boring or corny or involve family-bonding – or all three.

He suppressed a shudder.

“What is it?” Steph asked.

Dick turned to Damian. “You want to tell them?”

“No,” Damian returned shortly.

Jason grinned. “Wait – this is about Damian? Why didn’t you say so? What happened?”

Dick looked disappointed. “Seriously, Jason?”

“What? I’m showing an interest in my little brother and you’re upset about it?”

“He didn’t get in trouble,” Dick stressed.

“Oh. Well, now I don’t care.”

“See! This is what I’m talking about!”

Steph snorted. “Come on, Jay, this could be great. What happened?”

And… Dick’s smile was back. It was kind of creepy. Didn’t he know that no one in their family smiled?

“Damian entered the art contest at his school!”

Jason blinked, sending Damian an appraising glance. The kid’s shoulders were hunched, face scrunched up – clearly avoiding eye contact. He was embarrassed. Which meant he actually cared about this.

( _Huh. Look at that.)_

“That’s great, Dami!” Steph said, clapping her hands together. “Oh my gosh! What did you draw? Can we see?”

“I haven’t entered yet,” Damian grumbled, shooting a look at Dick and shifting his stance. “I _registered._ I’m not sure what piece I’m entering.”

“Yeah,” Dick gushed, “he’s going to do some preliminary sketches and then I’m going to screen them – you know, have to make sure they’re appropriate for school-“

Jason snorted, ignoring Dick’s glare.

“But, it’s going to be great, whatever it is! I already told Bruce and Alfred and it’s in the calendar and-“

“Wait,” Steph interjected, leaning forward. “You’re screening the drawings?”

“…Yes?”

Dick hesitance was completely founded. Steph sounded way too excited.

“That’s great! We can all help!”

“Help how?”

“What are you talking about, Brown?”

“Shh!” Jason demanded, turning to Steph. “This sounds interesting. Explain.”

Steph winked. “It’ll be like a panel. Dami can do his sketches and then we’ll all sit like a group of judges you know – like _Chopped_. But for art. And with only one contestant. So, not really like _Chopped_. Anyway, we’ll sit and we’ll give the number score from one through ten with our commentary. Like _Dancing with the Stars._ But-“

“You watch too much reality TV,” Jason interrupted. “But I’m in.”

“Wait, guys-“

“You don’t get a say, Dick; this isn’t about you!”

“Exactly! It’s about Damian. Dami, what do you think?”

Damian looked them over, his arms crossed, one eyebrow cocked. “I think you’re all going to do something stupid anyway, so it might as well be this; it’s not like your opinion actually matters.”

That could be construed as an insult, but really, it just meant that they were going forward with this plan.

“This is why you’re at the top my list,” Jason said, turning to Steph with a grin.

“I know. Now, let’s get started! I’ll grab the others. Meet in the living room, ten minutes. You ready, Dami?”

Damian sneered, unimpressed. “I’m always ready, Brown.”

“You’re literally the only person I know who can say that and not sound cliché because you actually _mean it,_ ” she stated, smiling as she left the room.

Dick sighed, shoulders slumping forward.

“Cheer up, Dickiebird,” Jason said, walking forward and clapping him on the back. “You keep saying you want us more involved in Babybat’s life – we’re showing interest!”

“You just like chaos,” he pointed out, lips twisted dryly.

“That’s fair,” Jason said before turning to Damian and ruffling his hair.

Damian swiped at him and offered a glare. “You’re all ridiculous.”

Jason shrugged with a grin.

( _This is going to be fun.)_

* * *

 

Jason nodded at the table, impressed. “I didn’t even know we had handheld white boards.”

“Me neither,” Cass murmured.

“We don’t,” Tim drawled, stepping into the room with an annoyed look at Steph, who was pushing him to a chair. “ _I_ have handheld whiteboards. I’m lending them to you for- Steph hasn’t told me what they’re for.”

“Ooo! Whiteboards. Because you’re so special for having miniature whiteboards,” Jason snarked.

“Your jealousy over my collection of office supplies has been noted and ignored.”

“Ha ha. Shut up, Tim.”

Steph snorted. “As much fun as this is – did you bring the dry erase markers, Tim?”

“Yes. Will someone tell me what’s going on here?”

Damian snorted. “They’re idiots.”

“Oh, well, stating the obvious is always helpful. Someone else?”

“We’re-“

“Not you, Dick. You look miserable.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “The brat’s entering an art contest at school, so we’re judging his art to make sure it’s ‘school-appropriate’.”

Tim stared at him blankly. “Damian is entering an art contest?”

“Yep!” Steph chirped.

“Why?”

Jason saw Damian and Dick both stiffen behind Tim’s back. Dick looked worried. Damian looked ready to fight, or maybe cry; Jason wasn’t sure.

“What do you mean ‘why’?” Steph demanded. “It’s great.”

Tim shrugged carelessly. “It’s a waste of time; we all know he’s going to win anyway. Why bother?”

Dick was grinning and nudging Damian smugly, and the look on Damian’s face made Jason wish he’d had his phone out.

“It’s about the accolades,” Steph explained.

Jason snorted, rolling his eyes as he dropped into his chair. “Why are you only nice on accident? Seriously, Tim, is there like, a thing in your brain that keeps you from being nice on purpose?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but, mostly, I can’t believe you _you’re_ talking to me about being nice.”

“I’m an angel!” Jason said, grinning.

Jason received remarkably unimpressed looks from everyone in the room. Which. Wow. Kind of harsh.

“Let’s not support any more of Jason’s delusions,” Steph said, pushing Tim down into the chair next to Jason and taking the seat on his other side. She motioned to Cass and Dick and slapped her hands on the table. “Pass out the markers, Tim! Let the judging begin!”

“Okay,” Dick began, “we rate the picture one through ten based on you know… art stuff.”

Damian looked disappointed in Dick’s very existence. Jason thought it was kind of hilarious.

“‘Art stuff’,” he repeated.

Tim shot him a fake snobbish look that was perfectly, disturbingly natural. “Obviously. Art stuff. It’s culture, Jason. Not that you’d know what that is.”

Jason sniggered. “Too right. Too right, Tim. Seeing as I’m obviously lacking… culture, maybe we should get someone who knows about it to teach me. Dick? Are you offering classes on art stuff that I can take? I don’t want to look ignorant, you know?”

Dick looked completely done.

That was Jason’s favorite expression of Dick’s.

“Can we separate the two of them?” Dick asked, turning to Steph.

“Sure,” she said with a shrug. “Tim, move it. Dick, you can sit in between them.”

Dick’s face fell. “Why do you hate me?”

“Are you done?” Damian demanded, holding his sketchbook and scowling at them.

“Seating is crucial, Dami. Be patient.”

“So, today’s just the day where we give out hypocritical advice? How did I miss the memo?” Tim asked, standing up. “I type the memos.”

“Do as I say, not as I do,” Steph quoted.

“That explains so much,” Damian muttered.

She stuck her tongue out at him before turning back to Tim. “I’ve changed my mind. Tim’s sass has earned him a seat at the end of the table. Dick, you can sit between me and Jason.”

Tim rolled his eyes as he walked to his new seat, prodding Dick to stand up. “So, sitting next to Cass is a punishment now?”

Steph frowned. “I didn’t think this through.”

“You don’t think anything through, Brown.”

“Shush, Dami,” she paused, “Oh, whatever. Let’s just get started, yeah? I’m excited.”

“Finally,” Damian grumbled standing in front of the table and flipping through his sketchbook. He cleared his throat and turned the sketchbook around once he found his page. “I’m considering making a larger version of this one. Perhaps painting it with dark, saturated colors.”

Steph hummed. “All right, judges. Judge Todd, you start.”

Jason held up his whiteboard, grinning. He loved giving things scores. “That’s a 7 for me, Judge Brown. I like subject, and it’s drawn really well, but I’m not too sure about the composition. I feel like it’s unbalanced, and maybe a little to jarring for the competition it would be entered in.”

Steph was stifling laughter and trying to give a formal nod. She barely managed it, but she really didn’t compare to Damian, who was actually taking his advice seriously. Jason was a little surprised, before he remembered that this was Damian and he _liked_ drawing, and he took everything he liked seriously.

“Makes sense; thank you, Judge Todd. Judge Grayson?”

The “10” that Dick held up was entirely predictable. “That’s amazing, Little D!”

Damian sighed and rolled his eyes. “Thank you, Grayson.”

“Yes, thank you, Judge Grayson, but we’re looking for constructive criticism.”

“It was constructive,” Dick said, pouting as he lowered his whiteboard slowly.

“As for me,” Steph said, holding up her board. “An ‘8’. It’s a nice piece, but, like, maybe there should be more scenery or something? That’s all. Judge Cain?”

Cass held up a “9”. “It’s good. But he looks lonely.”

“Good point, good point,” Steph said, nodding.

“I thought you said the criticism had to be constructive!” Dick protested.

“That was constructive!” Steph responded. “Great job, Judge Cain. Judge Drake?”

Tim casually held up a ‘0’.

Jason sniggered under his breath.

Damian glared. “What exactly is so bad about this sketch, Drake?”

“See, I thought about ‘art stuff’-“

Jason laughed. Dick glared. Jason laughed harder.

“And then I realized that we’re screening for appropriateness. A picture of Goliath isn’t appropriate for school. I mean, unless you were planning on surprising everyone and presenting your piece to the actual judges by saying ‘oh, hey, not to be suspicious or ruin my secret identity or anything, but I’m Robin and this is my flying pet. When do I get my trophy?’ then it’s probably a bad idea to present this at school. So, it’s a ‘0’ as for me, Judge Brown.”

Jason cackled.

Damian narrowed his eyes the way he always did when he hated having to concede a point to Tim.

“Well,” Dick started, “it could be a fantasy piece.”

“Really?” Tim drawled. “Really? Because… that looks like a photograph. And, no offense, Damian-“

“That’s the biggest lie you’ve ever told,” Jason interrupted.

“But I’ve never seen you draw from anything other than reference, so I’ve come to the conclusion that, in spite of your natural creativity, you have the imagination of a lionfish-“

“‘Lionfish’,” Steph mouthed, peering around Dick to gape at him.

Jason shrugged through his laughter.

“Unless it’s about violence,” Tim continued blandly. “Then you’re more imaginative than, well, Steph coming up with ways to torment you.”

“I resent that,” Steph argued.

Damian’s expression hadn’t changed, so he obviously agreed and was just refusing to admit it.

“Is this drawing sufficient or not?” Damian asked, teeth gritted.

“Judge Grayson, I’ll let you have the final say,” Steph offered with a grin.

Dick looked torn. He obviously thought Tim had made a good point, but, being Dick, he was completely in love with whatever Damian did.

“That’s a no,” Cass said, shrugging apologetically at Damian.

Damian rolled his eyes and nodded, flipping through his sketchbook again. “This one, then. I’d draw it bigger, but leave it as a sketch.”

Jason held up a ‘6’. “I mean, it’s good, but you can do better. I like the composition but it’s just… eh. Not really eye-catching.”

Dich held up another perfect score. “It’s great, Dami!”

Damian rolled his eyes.

“Can we skip Dick from now on?”

“Wait your turn Judge Drake. I think... you get a ‘4’ because it’s super boring.”

“How constructive,” Damian said with a glower.

She winked. “I try. Judge Cain?”

“‘8’. It’s pretty, but there’s no movement.”

Damian nodded gravely.

“Judge Drake? Your thoughts?”

Another zero. The predictability did nothing to make it less funny.

“It’s a bird,” Tim said matter-of-factly. “It’s not even a bird. It’s a Robin. It’s like you don’t know how to do anything other than leave clues to your identity. And, yeah, it’s super boring. But mostly, it’s a Robin. Is there anything in your sketchbook that doesn’t indicate what you do when you’re staying up past your bedtime?”

Damian looked like he wanted to jump across the table and tackle Tim. He refrained and chose to flip through his sketch pad again – though, more violently this time. Jason was actually impressed with his self-control.

He was also wondering how long it would last because Tim was only getting more savage the longer this went on.

( _Bedtime. Man. It’s like Tim_ wants _to get attacked. This is great.)_

“Here!” Damian spat, holding the sketch out.

Jason could feel everyone’s moods drop. Except maybe for Damian’s, which was defiant. And Tim’s, which was both shocked and satisfied.  

“Uh… Judge Todd?” Steph prompted weakly.

Jason held up a ‘3’ and avoided looking at Damian. “Yeah. It’s uh, really detailed. Looks great. But this is depressing and I hate it.”

Damian scowled. “That’s a bit like hating yourself, isn’t it Todd?”

“Wow. Wow,” Tim breathed.

He sounded way too happy.

Though, objectively, he could admit that Damian’s comment had been pretty awesome. Cold, but awesome.

Jason turned to Dick. “Judge Grayson?”

Dick smiled weakly. “‘10’?”

“Okay, we need to get some duct tape or something,” Jason grumbled. “You are literally the most biased person I have ever met.”

“But… it’s… so… good,” Dick defended.

He kind of looked like he wanted to cry, so Jason decided he might as well let it go. No one liked to see Dick cry; it was embarrassing.

“Uh… right,” Steph said. “Uh, well, I’ve got to go ‘3’ too. Because, wow: the level of detail. But also, wow: this is horrible and it makes me sad so can we not? Next?”

“‘4’. It’s sad.”

“None of you appreciate fine art,” Damian grumbled, sparing a moment to give them all a disappointed look before straightening his posture, hardening his expression, and turning to Tim. “Well?”

“Another zero, for obvious reasons.”

“And what reasons would those be, Drake? Your over sensitivity or your lack of appreciation for the fact that art is made to evoke emotion?”

“I feel like he just sub-tweeted all of us. But in real life,” Steph whispered.

“Definitely,” Jason agreed.

“It’s a new experience for me,” Steph admitted.

“Me too.”

“I think,” Tim began, “it probably has more to do with the fact that you drew the graveyard and you might actually get expelled from school. Just on the grounds of accumulated emotional torture. Honestly, I just don’t feel like watching your teacher have a mental breakdown because even your _art_ is ominous. I get you’ve got this obsession with death you can’t get over, but maybe don’t ruin your classmates?”

Dick was making a strangled pained noise that meant he agreed and couldn’t bring himself to say so because the comment was negative about any aspect of Damian’s existence.

Or maybe he was just trying not to cry.

That honestly seemed pretty likely.

“You know what, Drake? Fine.”

“You mean you’ll stop terrorizing your classmates and teacher?”

Damian glared and then stomped out of the room without another word.

Dick frowned. “Where’s he going? Look! He ran out! Tim!”

Tim shrugged. “I didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. And, really, you remember what happened the last time he wanted to do something school related?”

“This is nothing like the field trip!” Dick protested loudly.

Jason nodded. “This is _nothing_ like the field trip. Nothing.”

“Ah, right. Was jail fun for you? Did Damian have a good time?”

“Okay, one, attitude, Tim. Two, it was a holding cell, not jail. And they’re lucky no one else was in there with us because Damian probably would have torn them apart.”

Tim response was cut off when Damian walked back into the room holding a rolled-up poster board.

“Since none of my other options were deemed appropriate,” he stated, glaring at Tim, “I thought this one might be better.”

His expression went smug as he unrolled the sheet.

Jason broke into gales of laughter. Cass joined him shortly after – though slightly quieter.

“Wow. Just. Wow,” Steph breathed.

“I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do at this point,” Dick muttered, head falling into his hands.

“Well,” Tim started slowly, blinking and leaning forward. “I didn’t know you enjoyed drawing me that much, Damian. I don’t know whether to be creeped out or flattered.”

Dick groaned.

“Here we go,” Steph whispered excitedly.

Jason got out his phone and started recording. He was honestly a little disappointed that Tim hadn’t done this from the beginning, but it was fine.

The good part was just getting started.

Damian sneered. “This is a compilation I put together – sketches of you _failing,_ Drake.”

“Oh, well then, I’m definitely flattered,” Tim said, pasting on a plastic smile.

“Only you would be flattered by evidence of your persistent failures. I suppose it’s because failing is the only way for you to get attention,” Damian suggested loftily.

“Actually, it’s because this is evidence that you care enough about me that you’ll even capture my _perceived_ failures in your art.”

“Oh, snap,” Jason murmured, leaning back in his chair.

“Why…?” Dick moaned, ignoring Steph who kept swatting his shoulder.

Cass kept laughing.

Damian spluttered. “Hardly! This,” he declared, jabbing his finger at a sketch of Tim asleep, drooling on his desk, “is when you hadn’t slept in days working on the Black Mask case and ended up falling asleep at your desk and missing patrol. And this,” he pointed to a suited-up Tim in mid-fall wearing a calm expression, “is the day you gave Grayson your extra grappling hook and dropped yours right before you tripped off of a 12-story roof top. You were perfectly calm – accepting of your seemingly inevitable death – until I employed my considerable skill and excellent timing to save you from your own clumsiness. Also the result of a lack of sleep, might I add.”

“This just keeps getting better,” Jason said, grinning widely.

Dick looked up strangely. “This is actually really stressful; no one likes being reminded of these things!”

Cass and Steph spoke simultaneously. “Tim does.”

Tim _did_ look like he was enjoying this. Which could only mean he had a comeback in the works.

( _I love this day.)_

“And that,” Damian continued, getting more and more heated with each passing second, “is the day you were ill after catching a cold due to your immense stupidity, and had to be dragged out of your car by Todd because you were trying to go to work. Dressed in your pajamas.” Damian puffed out his chest, smirking. “What do you think of _that_ , Drake?”

Jason turned his phone to Tim, leaning forward in anticipation. Dick was trying his hardest to ignore the situation, but Steph and Cass were just as invested as Jason was, so, really?

Who needed Dick?

Not them.

“I think it’s sweet, Damian.”

Damian looked nauseated.

It was lovely.

Tim just smiled vindictively and continued. “It’s really, really good, Damian. And you obviously put a lot of thought and effort into this. I mean… you remembered every single incident perfectly. The fact that you care this much… it means a lot to me.”

Damian was a strange mix of purple and pale; he looked like he was about to explode.

It was glorious.

Tim smirked and wrote on his whiteboard. He held it up. “Perfect ‘10’. Nice job, Damian.”

Jason was perfectly justified in throwing back his head and full on cackling.

( _That was amazing.)_

Damian bared his teeth furiously and jerkily rolled up his poster. “I don’t need help from any of you! I’ll do this on my own!”

He stomped out of the room, absolutely steaming. Dick gaped after him before shooting them all judgmental glares and running after Damian.

“Dami, wait!

Tim smirked slightly. “Notice how he didn’t rip it up? It’s like he actually _does_ care.”

“I think he just didn’t want to ruin his work.”

“Shh, Steph. Let him have this. He needs this,” Jason said with a grin, turning off his phone and standing up. “This was kind of a disaster, but, also, not as bad as I thought it was going to be.”

Cass huffed.

They turned to her immediately.

If Cass was huffing, that meant she was frustrated. No one liked when Cass was frustrated.

No one.

Cass was looking at Tim though, which meant Jason was in the clear, so it was all good. Maybe not for Tim, but definitely for Jason, and that’s really all that mattered.

“You should be nicer,” she instructed, staring at Tim.

He blinked. “I – that wasn’t even as bad as usual.”

Cass frowned slightly and nodded, conceding the point. “This means a lot to Dami. It’s important.”

There was a set to Tim’s jaw that more guilty than stubborn. “Fine,” he muttered, standing up and walking out of the room.

“I haven’t seen the moody-teenager-stomp-off from him in a while,” Jason muttered wryly.

Cass just shrugged. “Dami’s sensitive. Tim forgets sometimes.”

“Let’s just hope he doesn’t start a fight over this; you know how he gets,” Steph commented.

Jason sighed.

Little brothers were so complicated.

( _I’m not touching_ any _of this.)_

* * *

 

Tim made his way to Damian’s room with a sigh.

This was why he didn’t like talking to Cass sometimes. It was easy to ignore Dick; he made a big deal out of everything relating to Damian. When Cass did it, he actually felt bad.

He hadn’t been trying to upset Damian – not any more than usual, at least. They communicated through snark and insults, and Damian always gave as good as he got, so Tim never worried about hurting his feelings. And, since they had gotten over the whole animosity-hatred-attempted-murder segment of their relationship, Tim hadn’t bothered with trying to _hurt_ Damian’s feelings either.

( _And yet…)_

“Tim.”

Tim winced. “Save it, Dick. I’m going to apologize now.”

Dick gaped briefly before slumping in relief. “Good. That’s good. Thanks.”

Tim waved it off. “He’s not going to try to kill me as soon as I step into his room, is he?”

Dick gave a crooked smile. “50-50.”

“I’ve worked with worse odds.”

He continued past Dick, but paused when he reached Damian’s door. Probably better to knock.

He did.

“What?”

“Can I come in?”

“Go away, Drake!”

Tim sighed and pushed the door open, dodging the book thrown at his head only because he’d been expecting it.

Damian glared at him before sitting down in his chair and turning his back.

Well, it could’ve been worse, so Tim was going to count that as a win.

Tim walked over to the bed and dropped down, running a hand through his hair. “Look, Damian, I didn’t know this meant that much to you.”

“It doesn’t,” he spat, shoulders hunched.

( _Right.)_

Tim didn’t know why he’d thought apologizing like a normal person would be a good idea. This was Damian he was dealing with. This was _him_ dealing with Damian. Acknowledging any kind of weakness between them – especially hurt feelings – was just not done.

So, different tactic.

“You know whatever you submit is going to win, right?”

Damian turned slightly for the sole purpose of shooting him a skeptical glare.

Progress.

Tim made his shrug casual. “I mean, you could probably enter a drawing of Jason’s face and still win- that’s how good you are. Or how bad your classmates are, comparatively.”

Damian’s lips twitched and his posture opened up, as Tim had expected. Insulting Jason and Damian’s peers were two of the few ways that Tim and Damian could bond.

“Obviously,” Damian shot back, leaning back in his chair and spinning to face Tim.

“That being said, you shouldn’t turn in whatever just because you _can_. It should be something really good so that everyone else realizes how futile entering this whole contest was when they had to compete against you.”

Damian smirked. “And Grayson was telling me you’d gotten over your need to crush other people in pointless competition.”

“I have.” ( _Mostly.)_ “Which is why I’m passing it on to you. And is it really a good day in school if you don’t make someone cry because of your obvious superiority?” Tim drawled, cocking an eyebrow.

Damian rolled his eyes before sighing. “Well, what do you suggest then, Drake, seeing as you’re so well-versed on the subject?”

Tim smirked and stood up. Damian was shooting sarcastic comments at him with ease – no anger present. His job here was done.

“I don’t know; draw something that actually means something to you. You were the one going on about the emotional impact of art. Use it. Just… leave anything Bat-related out of it.”

“Obviously. _I’m_ not the idiot of the family.”

“No, that would be Jason.”

Damian snorted. “True. Goodbye, Drake.”

Tim gave a sarcastic bow at the dismissal, already halfway out of the door. “Have fun, Demon.”

* * *

 

Dick grinned back at his family as they walked through all of the students’ drawings.

This was just so exciting!

Bruce and Alfred and him and Jason and Cass and Steph and –

“Are you two seriously making fun of the other kids’ work?” Dick complained, staring at his youngest brothers in dismay.

Tim and Damian shared a look and shrugged in unison.

“Critiquing,” Tim corrected.

“If they didn’t want feedback, they shouldn’t have entered the contest in the first place,” Damian offered unsympathetically.

Jason and Steph snickered.

(So _unhelpful.)_

“Bruce!” Dick implored.

Bruce sighed. “Boys.”

“Art is completely subjective. We can’t help it if we don’t like what they’ve submitted,” Tim said, shrugging.

“I’m not entirely sure any of this can be classified as art.”

Jason was full on cackling at this point, and Dick was forced to wave awkwardly at the parents and students who were staring at their group.

“Perhaps we should go and see Master Damian’s piece instead,” Alfred suggested calmly.

Dick couldn’t help his grin.

In the end, Damian had gone to Alfred to get approval from his drawing; and no matter how much Dick pestered them, neither Alfred nor Damian would tell him what Damian had entered. He’d been waiting to see it for two weeks!

He was _so_ excited!

“Yes!” Dick exclaimed. “Lead the way to the 1st place winner, Little D!”

Damian rolled his eyes and grumbled an “I’m so glad they did the judging before the showcase, so you couldn’t be there”, but walked forward to take the lead in their group. “It’s right past here,” he said, leading them through the maze of artwork towards a corner.

They all stopped as soon as they saw it.

Because it was immediately recognizable as Damian’s. Not just because it was better than everyone else’s – and it really, really was, for all it was a black and white sketch – but because it was them.

Them. The whole family. All of them. It was a full-sized family portrait. Not one they’d ever actually stood for, of course, but one Damian had put together.

“I- how- wha…?” Dick couldn’t get any words out as he looked between Damian and the drawing.

He shrugged. “I have plenty of references for you all. I just used them.”

Dick was not going to cry right now. He was not!

“It’s perfect, Damian,” Bruce said, resting a hand on Damian’s shoulder.

Damian pretended he wasn’t blushing and nodded. “Thank you, Father.”

“Indeed it is, Master Damian.”

“Oh my gosh! It’s like- better than perfect! Oh my gosh!” Steph looked absolutely ecstatic, briefly hugging Damian before rushing up to the drawing to take pictures of it.

Cass hugged him too – longer than Steph – before pulling away and ruffling his hair. “It feels like us.”

“Definitely,” Jason affirmed, slinging an arm around Damian’s shoulders. “Nice work, brat.”

Damian scoffed, but didn’t pull away – and Dick was officially going to die because this was amazing.

It was amazing.

“I’m surprised you didn’t draw me half out of the frame.”

Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose; Alfred sighed; Cass shook her head; Jason laughed loudly, drawing more stares; Dick wondered if he would ever get to enjoy a moment without having to hear a vaguely incendiary comment from one of his brothers.

( _Tim, why do you hate me?)_

Steph groaned. “Why are you like this?”

Damian just smirked. “I considered it, but that would have thrown off the overall composition.”

“Naturally,” Tim said, the corner of his lips twitching. “Still, given the _meaning_ behind this piece-“

“Shut up and be glad I didn’t draw you bleeding and broken, Drake,” Damian sneered. The blush on his face kind of ruined it.

“I’m sure you only refrained because that would have cost you 1st place,” Tim shot back. “Planning on bringing your trophy to school tomorrow to rub your classmates’ inadequacies in their faces?”

“I’m not you, Drake. Besides, my very presence is enough to accomplish that purpose.”

Dick sighed and exchanged looks with Bruce and Alfred, but couldn’t help smiling again.

“This is going on the refrigerator.”


End file.
